Dearest Cinderella (5 page)

"Oh but you haven't done all
your chores Cinderella, you haven't cleaned my room." They both
stood there staring at each other, surrounded by a nearly spotless
room. Cinderella was bereft of an answer. "Oh and you've done such
a beautiful job on my dress, it's a shame I had to go and ruin it,"
her stepmother's bottom lip jutted out, she almost looked genuinely
sad, it was a shame that her laughing eyes ruined such a beautiful
charade. "Would you fix it for me by the time I get back from the
ball? I would so love to come back to such a lovely present."

"You will not allow me to come
to the ball with you."

She threw the dress on the floor
then carefully walked over it and towards the door, turning briefly
to sneer, "I will not allow you to embarrass me."

She shut the door behind herself
with a soft click and went to confirm with the butler that their
carriage would arrive within the hour to take her and her two
daughters to the King's ball.

Alone, in her stepmother's room,
Cinderella held herself stiff, refusing to move, refusing to let
any of the tears fall. Slowly, they leaked down her cheeks. She
didn't acknowledge them, she set about tidying her stepmother's
room. Longing for her diary, wishing it was with her. Thoughts
about her diary led to thoughts about Jon which in turn blurred her
eyes to such a degree that she was forced to stop moving and deal
with the pain in her chest. The feeling of shattered hope and ill
treatment. Gingerly, she picked up the battered dress. Noticing
that not only was the hem torn off, but as was a sleeve and there
was mud on the collar from where her stepmother had trodden on it.
As she looked down at that dress she'd spent such time and care on,
a sob slipped out of her mouth before she could silence it. The
gates opened and sob after sob rocked her body. Not only did she
cry over her torn dress and dreams. She also cried over her
sisters, the connection she so wanted with them. She cried over her
mother and father, the love they'd shared, that they'd left her to
the anger of her stepmother. Predominantly, she cried over Jon. She
loved him though she knew the feelings were futile. If life had
taught her anything, it was that some people were destined for
excitement and wonder. And then there was she, a supporting
character. A person who tried again and again to crawl out of the
darkness, to be alight, to fix things for others and herself. It
was no use, she realised with a sigh. She could try forever or she
could accept her fate. Cinderella took five slow deep breaths,
wiped her eyes, stiffened her upper lip and stood up, dress in
hand. Downstairs she could hear her stepmother and sisters leaving,
entering the carriage and the front door being loudly shut. Without
thinking about the consequences or any regard for her own safety,
Cinderella set out for the forest. The only thing in her mind was
her determination to write in her diary. She didn't think to get a
lantern from the kitchen, she didn't spare a second thought to the
thugs she'd meet last time. Her singular goal was to write. To
record. To maybe even write another letter to Jon. See if he'd
replied to hers, if he would be going to the ball tonight in the
hopes of meeting her and be met with nobody. Would he be awfully
disappointed? Did he care for her the same way that she cared for
him? She asked herself as she walked through the forest, with only
the dim light of the moon to guide her. Belatedly, she noticed that
in her hands she held the dress. It seemed that she was unwilling
to part from it so soon. Eventually, Cinderella found the tree and
had retrieved her diary. She walked over to the oak tree where
Jon's diary was held and dug until she found the other diary. She
opened it, expecting to find his letter, the one she'd given
Fairgem to deliver. It wasn't there. She looked down in the hole
again, cursing herself for not bringing a light. She couldn't find
it. Frustration coursed through her. What had happened? Where was
her letter? Had he taken it with him? But why? Had he even received
it? So many questions spun through her head that she failed to
notice someone come up behind her.

"Cinderella! What on earth are
you doing here?" She spun on the spot, dropping everything in her
hands out of fright. She waited for her eyes to focus on the person
in front of her in the dark.

"Fairgem?" It was Fairgem and
she was holding a package under one arm.

"What are you doing in the
forest, girl? It's almost full dark! You should be on your way to
the ball, not here." Fairgem watched as Cinderella's face crumbled,
her shoulders stiff. "She didn't let you." Cinderella nodded,
trying to look unaffected.

"What are you carrying?"
Cinderella took the large package from the woman, it was lighter
than she'd imagined.

"Never mind that, come, I'm
taking you home, away from that place." She took hold of
Cinderella's arm.

"Oh, but I cannot. I must finish
her dress for her by the time she comes back from the ball. I can't
just leave all my things." Fairgem sighed, looking at her daughter
wearily.

"Cinderella. You deserve to go
to the ball, forget her silly dress. Come with me." Cinderella
wanted to but instead she turned away and picked up the things
she'd dropped earlier, the dress and the two diaries. "So you won't
go meet Jon tonight, you'll just leave him to wait for you? I never
took you for a coward, love." Cinderella turned around in
anger.

"I can't. I want to, but I am
not who I said I was. He thinks I am a normal young miss. He
doesn't know about the illegitimacy of my birth. He would hate me.
He would turn away from me. Treat me the way my family does." And
there was the heart of the matter. It would be easy to go. Meet
Jon, dance and laugh and fall in love. She could easily steal
another dress, one from Anabeth's room that fit better. It would
not be easy, however, to be shunned. It was not easy being
disgraced. Hated. Fairgem took her hand softly, waiting for
Cinderella to look at her.

"Trust yourself."

She sighed, "It is too late now.
She has destroyed my dress." Fairgem gave the gown in Cinderella's
arms an appraisal and smiled,

"Just come with me."

CHAPTER

SEVEN

"Now let's see here," Fairgem
laid out the dress on the table, making a clicking noise with her
tongue, "That horrid woman." Cinderella sat on the chair behind
her, exhausted from all the crying. She put her head in her hands,
leaning her elbows on her knees.

"It's no use. Even if my dress
were not ruined, she still expects me to have mended it and let the
waist out by the time she returns from the ball tonight." Fairgem
leaned back on her heels shifting her weight from foot to foot
before she turned to look at Cinderella, a broad grin on her lips
and excitement in her eyes.

"I have the most perfect thing!"
Before Cinderella could ask, Fairgem had rushed off in a hurry,
running behind a curtain. She stood up from the chair, stretching
her limbs and yawning. All the night's events had taken a toll on
her nerves. Fairgem emerged from the curtain carrying what appeared
to be a mountain of fabric. Cinderella assumed it to be a dress but
couldn't find a bodice or sleeves or anything but fabric in all the
layers of white Fairgem held. "This will look perfect on you!"

"Fairgem, no." she backed away
from the dress, unwilling to allow herself to hope for a moment
that she could wear the gown, that she would go the ball.

"Cinderella, if you love me then
you will at least try the dress on." She paused, with such an
ultimatum she was forced to undress and allow Fairgem to drop the
folds of fabric over her. When everything was buttoned up, Fairgem
led her over to the mirror in the corner of the room. She looked in
the mirror. "I couldn't possibly." The dress was beautiful,
utterly, impossibly beautiful. Cascades of white silk falling from
a gorgeously beaded bodice that hugged her waist and curled around
her bosom as if made for her. Layers of fabric that moved around
Cinderella as she turned too and fro in front of the mirror, as if
part of her body. "Fairgem..." Her voice faltered, she ran her
hands over the silk, feeling its smoothness, unable to pull her
hands away from the folds.

"Oh, and I haven't shown you his
present." Gone in a blink was her fascination, in its place
confusion and disbelief. She watched as her old Nurse rifled
through cupboards, shelves and boxes impatiently.

"His? He gave you something?
When did you see him? How? Why didn't you tell me?" She looked over
boxes at Cinderella, a small smile curling the side of her
mouth.

"You didn't ask, and anyway he
told me not to." Cinderella was quiet as she turned back to the
mirror, watching her reflection and the emotions that flittered
across her features. Shock, then anger, then bewilderment.

"He told you not to. Why?"
Fairgem made a loud triumphant sound and held up the package she'd
been holding earlier when they'd bumped into each other in the
forest.

"The question you should be
asking," she came closer, slowly opening the box, "is what has he
given you." It wasn't her most pressing question but nevertheless
Cinderella peered into the box and found a pair of shoes. They were
a deep gold colour and so fine that Cinderella could hardly fathom
the idea of putting such delicately made things on her feet. With a
modest heel and rounded toe it's defining feature were the carvings
along the side of the shoe. Made of a clear and solid material, it
almost looked to Cinderella like, "Glass." She spared her nurse a
glance to watch her looking down at the shoes with a critical
eye.

"I must say that I was
apprehensive at first, but the glass touch has certainly grown on
me. These shoes would be fit for royalty. Your Jon has a very good
eye indeed." Cinderella felt none of that apprehension for as soon
as she'd laid eyes on those shoes she knew that anything smaller
than the Kings army would ever be able to separate her with the
gift.

"Who is he?" She genuinely
needed to know. Who was this man who consorted with royalty, this
man who bought a girl the most impractical type of shoes. Fairgem
softly placed the shoes on the floor before Cinderella and she
gingerly inserted her feet and watched them in the mirror.

"That is for him to tell
you."

"It must have cost a small
fortune," she said, releasing her skirt so that it flowed over the
shoes and hid them from view.

"A mighty waste I might say, no
one will even see it. But sometimes fancy footwear does give a girl
courage." Cinderella stared at her reflection. She couldn't believe
her eyes. She looked like royalty. Despite her hair and the redness
in her eyes, she looked like someone who wasn't capable of being
afraid, only confident.

"Were you in the forest coming
to give me the shoes?" Fairgem nodded silently behind her. Her eyes
had welled up with tears, a happy grin on her face. "Why are you
crying?" She hastily scrubbed at her eyes.

"Because I'm happy. Happy that
you're here with me. Happy that you'll finally be getting what you
deserve. You deserve happiness Cinderella." They hugged and as they
did Cinderella cautiously decided to trust her instincts. Within
the embrace she became determined. They finally pulled away from
each other at which point Cinderella made Fairgem aware of how
atrocious her hair looked. Walking in the forest in the dark had
led to leaves and other unmentionables stuck in her hair. She sat
down in front of the mirror as Fairgem worked. Laughing at the
memories that were conjured by the activity. Early mornings when
Cinderella was just a little girl, singing to her Nurse as she
combed and styled her hair.

"Whom did you make this dress
for?" Cinderella asked, smoothing the silk over her shoulder as
Fairgem continued her ministrations.

"A woman from the nobility, she
told me she wanted something white and beautiful then left the shop
promising to come back in a week for it."

"But how can I wear it out to
the ball if it is to be hers soon? What if she sees me in it? It
could ruin you."

"Oh stop your worrying," she
fixed her with a maternal look in the mirror then continued on her
hair, "Just bring the dress back to me so that I can alter the
design and give it to her. I may never talk to you if you spill
anything on it, ok?" Cinderella smiled.

"Ok," suddenly remembering
something, "oh, but what about her dress, I need to have fixed it
by the time she returns home."

"Never mind that, I'll fix it
for you and have it delivered so that it's there when you return.
Discretely of course."

"Thank you Fairgem, how can I
ever begin to-"

"Don't be ridiculous child. It
is nothing a mother would not do for her daughter." She looked down
at her gown, mesmerised by its fluidity, its beauty and came to a
sudden realisation.

"My dress! I told him pink with
lace, he will not recognise me." Fairgem brushed aside her worry
with a flick of her wrist.

"Trust your instincts, deduce,
you will find him." Cinderella turned back to the mirror, noticing
the way that her hair was now placed in a stylish up do at the top
of her head. Fairgem had inserted flowers that highlighted the
colour and shine of her hair. She turned her head from side to
side, trying to glance at her hair from different angles.

"Oh, it's beautiful. Thank you."
she was silent for a moment, biting her lip with worry. "I hope Jon
isn't disappointed with what he finds."

CHAPTER

EIGHT

Prince Mark was not acting as
royalty should, his family surrounding him remarked. In a sea of
merriment and colour, of champagne and laughing, dancing couples
and lively music, Prince Mark stood waiting. Earlier he'd asked the
front guards to notify him if a woman dressed in pink with sleeves
of lace arrived. They had received nobody of such description. His
senses were on high, worry coursing through him, fear of her
reaction. Silently, in the balcony with the rest of the royal
family, he watched below as the nobility danced. Elegant and
resplendent, the music encouraging them to step with flare. Every
so often his mother would tap him on the shoulder and direct his
attention to a female she'd personally invited. He would then have
to stand up and bow. Each time he sat back down he tried to ignore
the look of disappointment on her face. Mark was waiting. Through
the night, he made pleasantries with those who talked to him,
smiling and pretending that every fibre of his being wasn't lying
in wait of Cinderella. He'd prepared, he had a corner of the royal
gardens sectioned off so that they could take a stroll in private,
talk, share a kiss. With every hour that passed the Prince sank
lower into his chair, worry turned to confusion which then turned
to anger. This had been her idea meeting! Feeling suffocated by the
noise in the room and the sideways glances of his mother, the
Prince stood and made his way down the stairs and outside the
ballroom. Ignoring his mother's questions. Slipping out of the hall
and into the garden he was greeted with silence, he breathed in the
cold and crisp air. Following the path, he relished in the privacy,
the quiet. When he turned the corner around a fern he stopped in
his tracks. There was a woman. To Prince Mark's eyes, she was an
angel. She sat on the edge of the fountain, her head tilted up to
the heavens. Eyes closed, bordered by delicate lashes. Her small
pink lips displaying a whimsical smile. She hadn't noticed him. He
watched the fair beauty. She looked to be only a few years younger
than he, her hair held at the top of her head by wild flowers. She
was dressed in some type of white concoction that hugged her
delicate curves until it expanded at her waist in an explosion of
fabric and hit the floor. She was incredible. Mark discovered he'd
been holding his breath. He took a hesitant step forward, not
wanting to disturb her. Then he remembered Cinderella and sighed.
The girl heard his exhale and opened her eyes in fright, almost
falling backwards into the fountain during the process.